


Moments Adrift in Time

by Grimalkenkid



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Rivalry, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkenkid/pseuds/Grimalkenkid
Summary: Despite the march of impending doom that is the Singularities, life continues at Chaldea, albeit a bit more chaotically.Index:1 - Hyde has feelings, too!2 - Medb lets slip a little tidbit of information about Diarmuid and Arturia... in front of everyone in Chaldea.3 - Hektor and Achilles never got along, and the rest of Chaldea is tired of their bickering.4 - In which Hyde is surprisingly popular... and he doesn't like it one bit.5 - Noble Phantasms interact in some interesting ways, as Arash unfortunately learns.





	1. It's Not Fair

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this because I wanted to do some angst stuff with Hyde, but I may add more chapters as inspiration strikes. I'm also open to suggestions if y'all have ideas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyde has feelings, too!

“Master,” Jekyll giggled, a smile gracing his handsome face as Ritsuka peppered it with kisses. “Please, Master, slow down.” His tone betrayed his words, though, as his delight shone through. Of all the servants she shared intimate time with, Jekyll was the one who loved being given attention the most.

“Hm…” Ritsuka stopped for a moment, pondering her options. “No,” she said definitively. The young master resumed her assault, removing his glasses so she could more easily kiss the corners of his eyes. If he really wanted her to stop teasing, he could easily tilt his head up and out of range of her lips. Of course, then she’d just turn her attention to his neck, and things would get unsafe for work quickly from there.

The good doctor let out a laugh at her stubborn refusal and settled for resting his hands on her hips. They would get to the good stuff eventually, and it was often worth the wait for both master and servant.

But then he froze. Jekyll’s smile was gone in an instant and every muscle in his body went tense. Ritsuka, ever aware of her lover’s demeanor, pulled away to ask what had caused such a sudden shift.

“No…” Jekyll breathed, eyes wide but unfocused. “Not now… not now… please…” He staggered back, pressing his hands to his head as if that would somehow help.

Ritsuka knew that posture. She’d seen it several times around Chaldea already. And it meant only one thing: Hyde was vying for control, and Jekyll wasn’t going to let him. The young master wished there was something she could do to help. But this was an internal battle that would end in one personality forcing his way back into control, and it was a coin toss which personality that would be. The young master stood back, ready to expend a command seal if Hyde proved to be hostile. He usually wasn’t, but there was a first time for everything.

“Go away…” Jekyll hissed, doubled over from the effort of keeping the berserker out. “I don’t need you… Go back… Go back!”

“No! _You_ go back!”

And then he lurched in place. His hair, carefully combed to be neat and flat against his head, stuck out at all angles. Ritsuka knew that a hundred little changes were happened beneath his clothing, but the hair was the most obvious sign. Hyde was in control.

“Finally!” Hyde stood back to his full height and stretched. “It’s been for-fucking-ever since you let me out.”

Ritsuka scowled, thumb rubbing the red command seals on her hand. “And it’ll be for-fucking-ever until I let you out again since you keep inviting yourself in when you’re not wanted. You couldn’t have waited until later to pop out?” There was more venom in her words than she intended, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt. Hyde was a particularly dense berserker anyway.

The berserker turned back to the young master, flashing a sharp-toothed grin. “I didn’t want to wait until later,” he taunted. “I wanted out now, and so I came out now. Any more stupid questions, _master_?”

Ritsuka’s scowl morphed into an angry grimace. If she furrowed her brows any further, they would’ve covered her eyes completely. “Go. Away.” When Hyde rolled his eyes and took a step towards the door, she quickly added, “No, not like that. Bring Jekyll back. We weren’t finished.”

Hyde groaned, dragging the note out for effect. “But I’m so bored,” he whined. “Even I get tired of fighting all the time. And you never let me out any other time!” The berserker sneered at her, his red eyes glinting from beneath his bangs.

“I don’t care!” Ritsuka snapped. Hyde was difficult enough to deal with as it was; she didn’t need him coming and going as he pleased. “Jekyll doesn’t hurt people for kicks like you do! Now let him back out and get yourself back to whatever dark corner of hell you call home!”

“It’s not fair!” the berserker yelled suddenly, rounding on her with all the aggressiveness of an angry badger. “You two have all the lovey-dovey time you want, and I have to sit there and watch that goody two-shoes be happy!”

“Y-you can see us?” Ritsuka asked, heart going cold in her chest. The fight went out of her in an instant as the pieces fell together. Every time she and Jekyll embraced, every kiss and hug, every intimate moment they’d shared… All that time, they had an unwilling voyeur? It felt like her heart had stopped, and the young master wanted to run, but she knew she could never get away from him. Not if he felt like chasing her down.

Hyde scoffed. “No,” he huffed indignantly. “But I know about it! I can feel it. Like… like hearing through a wall or something.” His hands curled into fists as he took a step towards Ritsuka. “He gets everything I don’t. And the few times I’m the one in control, no one gives me anything! You treat me like… like a dog! You only let me out when you want someone dead!”

Ritsuka couldn’t find the words. Nothing sounded right to her. Hyde was a crude, violent man, but there was some sense in his tirade of curses and complaints. It wasn’t his fault that he was forced to sit on the sidelines in all of Jekyll’s relationships. Nor was it his choice to eavesdrop on every little thing the good doctor heard or said.

And he wasn’t even finished. “What about what I want?” Hyde hissed, grinding his teeth in frustration. “You don’t think I’d like to talk some times? Or wander around? Or just. Fucking. Exist?! I want to eat. I want to sleep. I want to fight when you don’t want me to. I want to stick my cock in someone and fuck them senseless! I—” Hyde tilted his head forward, hunching over as he continued to growl. “I want to feel… someone else! With… with my own hands… I…”

Hyde trailed off and then let out a scream. Ritsuka recognized that scream. It was the same sound her mind made whenever she was driven into a corner and couldn’t figure out what to do next. It was the sound she made when the Chulainns wouldn’t stop arguing but none of them were really in the right. It was the sound one made when they just couldn’t keep pretending they weren’t in pain. He only stopped when he ran out of breath, and then he just stood there, wild-eyed and shoulders trembling with each breath.

To Ritsuka, that scream hurt more than even a slap to the face. She was never quite sure how to handle the berserker, especially since he was cognizant of his actions and their consequences. Normally, it was just a matter of getting him to relinquish control back Jekyll, but the young master had the distinct feeling that that particular tactic wouldn’t work now.

“Hyde…” she said, her voice barely loud enough to cut through the berserker’s heavy breathing. She took a step toward him, unsure what would happen but hopeful that it wouldn’t wind up with her dead by his hand. “Hyde, come here.”

When he didn’t move, Ritsuka closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She threw her arms around him, pulling the berserker into an embrace. Hyde let out a strangled gasp at the contact but didn’t pull away. He didn’t move at all. The young master took that as a good sign, all things considered.

“Hyde…” she repeated, gently rubbing his back in what she hoped was a calming fashion. “You want someone to pay attention to you?

He nodded imperceptibly against her shoulder. It was more of a reaction than she expected.

“I’m sorry,” Ritsuka whispered, bringing a hand to his head and carding her fingers in his unruly hair. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t know.”

The moment stretched out, the only sound being Hyde’s shaky breaths. Ritsuka could feel him trembling beneath her hands. She wished she had an answer, something to say that would placate the berserker so he would fade back into whatever dark corner he occupied in the mind he shared with Jekyll. But she felt horrible the instant that thought crossed her mind. Hyde was on the verge of tears, and here she wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. That wasn’t the right way to treat a person. Not at all.

“It’s okay to cry,” Ritsuka mumbled. “We’re alone right now. I’m the only one who’ll know.”

Hyde laughed softly, in that kind of pathetic way one does when a friend makes a bad joke to lighten a dour mood. “He’ll know,” he croaked. Despite his words, the berserker finally cracked, and he let out a few hoarse sobs as he pulled Ritsuka closer.

She continued rubbing his back and stroking his hair as the tears began to fall. It was all the young master could think to do. Hyde was holding onto her like a life preserver in a hurricane. Each cry that passed his lips was raw and coarse, as if he was still trying to keep the sounds in. To Ritsuka’s ears, it sounded more like a wounded animal than a man, but she would never say that out loud. Each strangled cry felt like he was letting out years of frustrations and anger and longing, and she began to wonder if there would be anything left of the berserker when he was done. With every shudder, she could feel some of the tension leave Hyde’s muscles. Soon, he sank to the floor, bringing the young master with him.

Time was a distant concept as they sat on the cold floor, still holding each other as close as comfort would allow. They might’ve sat there for five minutes, ten minutes, maybe even an hour. Whatever it was, eventually all the pain left Hyde’s voice, and he just whimpered against her shoulder.

“Edward?” Ritsuka said quietly. She braced herself for some protest about using his first name, but the berserker just turned his head to look her in the eye. “Feeling better?”

Hyde nodded. His eyes were red and swollen, and she could clearly see where the tears had rolled down his cheeks. Tentatively, Ritsuka reached up to wipe the remaining tears away. All Hyde did was close his eyes.

“What do you want to do now?” the young master asked. While she was fine staying like this for a bit longer, Hyde looked thoroughly exhausted. She wanted to suggest he give control back to Jekyll so he could rest, but she’d leave the decision up to him. After all, he didn’t often get that choice.

Hyde looked away, nuzzling into Ritsuka’s shoulder. The gesture almost seemed… affectionate. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “Jekyll’s annoyed. Gonna let him take over.” The berserker turned back to her one last time, though. “Don’t ignore me… please.”

With that, Hyde closed his eyes, and Ritsuka could hear the telltale hiss of the transformation being reversed. Held in his embrace, she could actually feel the changes taking place. The hard, dense muscles along his back softened under her hands. His strong arms slackened as the muscle there became reduced. Ritsuka couldn’t help but smile as his shoulder shrunk, and she was able to vaguely feel the bone under his soft skin. It was a far more delicate body, one more suited for alchemy than combat, and it was one Ritsuka was intimately familiar with.

“Ugh…” Jekyll groaned as he readjusted to being in control. “Forgive me, Master. I couldn’t keep him from coming out.”

“It’s okay,” the young master said. She pulled away from the good doctor, giving him the time and space he needed to reorient himself. While Hyde took control like a man grabbing the steering wheel, Jekyll taking over was more akin to someone waking up after a fitful sleep. “It wasn’t Hyde’s intention to hurt me, and he didn’t. Nothing’s broken, either. I was just a bit startled.”

“Ah! Th-that’s good…” Jekyll often panicked if he thought his other half might’ve done something bad, so it was best to preemptively reassure him. “But, if his intent wasn’t to cause harm, then why—” The doctor cut himself off and gingerly wiped his eyes. His brows furrowed in confusion as his fingers came away wet. “Was… was he… crying?”

Ritsuka nodded. “I believe he was upset about, well, not being his own person,” she ventured. She wasn’t sure how much of what he said reached Jekyll, and her honor that demanded she respect what little privacy the berserker had outweighed her desire to tell the good doctor everything. “He felt like I’ve been ignoring him.”

“But… he’s a monster! What could he possibly want besides bringing harm to everyone around him?”

The young master understood why Jekyll would say that, but with what Hyde told her… it seemed crueler than was necessary. Yes, Hyde ruined Jekyll’s life, but the berserker only existed because the doctor made him. Unintentional or not, it was beginning to sound a lot like what Frankenstein had gone through. Ritsuka held up her hand to silence Jekyll before he said anything else.

“Jekyll, I love you. And because I love you, I’m going to say right now that Hyde isn’t a monster.” Ritsuka hoped that she was saying the right thing. She hated seeing Jekyll struggle with Hyde before, and now it was just that much worse. “Hyde is a man, just like you. A rude, impulsive, and violent man, but a man nonetheless. Not only that, but you’re two halves of a bizarrely functional whole.” She clasped his hands in her own, hoping that he would understand. What it was she wanted to convey… she wasn’t entirely sure. “It breaks my heart every time you berate Hyde because I know you’re assigning that same blame to yourself.”

Ritsuka cupped Jekyll’s face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes and a fair amount of hurt, but this conversation was a long time coming. Hyde just… accelerated the process.

“Master, I…” the doctor said meekly. Whatever he meant to say – if he had anything to say at all – died in his throat, and he just anxiously wet his lips, waiting for her to continue.

Ritsuka leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. The comforting gesture set them both at ease, and the young master rested her forehead against his before continuing. “Maybe… we can let him have a little more time in control,” she suggested. “So he doesn’t feel trapped. I’m not saying you have to let him run around whenever he wants, but maybe… we should start treating him like a person instead of a nuisance. Is that alright?”

Jekyll was silent for a minute as he processed what she said. Eventually, he sighed, “Yes, I’ll… I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Ritsuka smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Anyway, Hyde got his cuddling in, so now it’s your turn.”

 


	2. Unbidden Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medb lets slip a little tidbit of information about Diarmuid and Arturia... in front of everyone in Chaldea.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to hear someone yelling at Medb in the lounge. The reasons for said yelling were often the same, as well. The queen of Connacht would doggedly pursue whichever man had currently caught her attention until he either relented or told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was wasting her time. More often than not, her pursuits ended in the latter. And Medb’s love of drama led her to force such confrontations into public areas.

That day’s target was one Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. While the Irish lancer was generally polite and calm even in the midst of battle, the queen had apparently pushed him a bit too far. Medb hurried into the lounge, feigning innocence, with him following closely behind, his words being some that she had no doubt heard time and time again.

Bedivere sighed and turned his attention back to the chessboard. Lancelot and Gawain were intently focused on their game, which could go either way at this point. Watching them try to concoct strategies and counter-strategies was just as enthralling as a tourney joust, albeit at a slower pace. Tristan was relaxing in a couch nearby, although whether or not he was actually sleeping was in question as always. Arturia herself had also joined the other Knights of the Round, even if she was more interested in her book than on the game before her. Bedivere couldn’t remember the last time they had all gathered like this without some pressing issue to address.

If it weren’t for the ruckus caused by Medb, as well as the general din caused by Iskandar’s mere existence and the several disparate conversations happening all around, then the silver-armed knight might have compared it to a slow, winter’s day in Camelot.

Gawain had yet to decide on his next move, and Bedivere tried to guess which piece he would use. The sun knight’s hand hovered over the board, ready to enact his new plan, when the argument from the Irish servants cut through the air.

“If you will not cease your advances,” Diarmuid pleaded, “then at the very least, you could be more discreet. Were you to drape yourself over some of the servants here, the results would be… catastrophic, for you and everyone else.”

Medb scoffed and whirled around, smacking her riding crop against the Irish lancer’s chest. Bedivere found his eyes drawn to the argument, wondering if an intervention would be necessary. He saw at least three other servants doing the same, so his gaze didn’t linger. Gawain looked to have chosen his next move, picking up one of his bishops.

“I will _not_ take advice about being discreet from you, of all people,” the Connacht queen huffed, the air of elegance and purity never leaving her voice despite the words coming from her mouth. “Your affairs are so blatant you might as well shout them from the mountaintops, my dear.”

“My… what?” the Irish lancer stumbled over his words.

Bedivere once again pulled his attention from the chessboard to watch the unfolding argument, ever wary of some word or line that would turn things violent.

Medb let out an exasperated groan that would leave any high-society lady blushing at its perfection. She tapped her crop against his chest some more as she went on. “You can’t tell me that you’re unaware of what I mean, dear warrior,” her voice oozed like honey. At that point, everyone must have been paying attention to the discussion, as voices died out in the background. “The King of Knights, our sweet Arturia. You and she have been entwined in the throes of passion, have you not? Neither of you have been very subtle, so tell me why you’re such a scholar on the subject now.”

Silence followed her words, like a heavy blanket had been dropped over the entire lounge. No one moved nor spoke, each person trying to think through what had been said. Medb must have known how loud she was being, because Bedivere could almost feel her smirk from where he sat, shocked at what she had revealed.

It was entirely possible that she was lying. The queen of Connacht wasn’t the most reliable source, but she wasn’t known as a gossip either. Bedivere glanced between Diarmuid and Arturia, waiting to see how they would respond to this accusation. He didn’t need to look to know that his fellow Knights of the Round were doing the same.

The king of knights, for her part, hadn’t noticeably reacted to the words. To anyone else, she simply continued reading despite the looks being thrown her way, though with a bit more intensity than before. Bedivere was not “anyone else.” He had spent much of his life by the king’s side, learning to read her body language and expressions better than the most attentive of lover. He saw the way her entire body tensed up, how she sat straighter than before, and how her slight smile had completely disappeared into a mask of indifference. A slight blush was also beginning to creep its way across her cheeks, despite her best efforts.

Diarmuid was not quite as controlled. His eyes went wide, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, as if every word he was about to say just wasn’t good enough. The Irish lancer’s face was also going red, though if out of anger or embarrassment, Bedivere couldn’t say. After several intolerably long moments of silence, Diarmuid crossed his arms and stammered, “H-how’d… I… What?”

Medb rolled her eyes. “You and Arturia. Together. Making love. Horsing it in. Knicking knockers. Shagging. Fucking. Having sex. I could go on, but I think you get the point.” She flicked her riding crop away from Diarmuid’s chest and began waving it about to emphasize what she was saying. “Don’t tell me you were trying to hide it, sweetie. Everyone in Chaldea must know already, so why try to deny it? I thought knights had some kind of rule against lying, anyway.” As if to see how far she could push him, Medb added, “ _Do_ you deny it?”

Diarmuid said nothing as his eyes flicked to Arturia. The king of knights met his gaze and sighed, bowing her head in defeat. With that exchange of glances, they very well might have agreed to abandon secrecy, but it was hardly necessary. The lancer’s lack of response was as good as a confession.

A harsh clattering cut through the quiet. Bedivere jumped to his feet and whirled to see that Gawain had dropped his bishop and was just gaping at Diarmuid. Lancelot’s focus was on Arturia, his eternally haunted eyes full of curiosity. Tristan, if he was awake, didn’t so much as flinch, but a small smile graced his lips. For her part, the king of knights simply hid behind her book.

“You seduced King Arthur?” The outburst that broke the shocked silence belonged to none other than Fionn, who just entered the lounge himself. His frequent jabs at Diarmuid’s way with the ladies gave the impression that he believed his knight was a beloved flirt, yet the way his mouth hung open showed that not even he expected this. “What trickery did you employ to accomplish such a feat? Even my attempts to woo her have had all the effectiveness of emptying the sea with a spoon.”

“My King… I…” Diarmuid stammered. A rabbit with its leg caught in a snare would’ve shown less discomfort than he did. Bedivere commended his bravery at staying to face any accusations people threw his way, even if the silver-armed knight thought it unnecessary.

Whatever explanation the Irish lancer was about to give was cut off by another boisterous laugh from one of the tables. How Iskandar had managed to remain quiet for more than a few minutes, no one would ever know. The king of conquerors was at a table with his usual retinue of Waver, Fergus, and Shakespeare. Iskandar clapped the two older servants on the shoulder, loudly proclaiming, “I was right! You were fools not to believe me. And now you shall pay for your doubt… with a round of drinks!” Despite his words, the conqueror held neither malice nor smugness in his voice. Merely joy at a bet he had won. At least, Bedivere thought it was a bet. The way Fergus and Shakespeare also laughed probably meant that they’d already discussed this at length.

If Fionn’s outburst had broken the silence, then Iskandar had thoroughly shattered it. Dozens of hushed conversations started up all around the lounge, already talking about how much of a surprise it was that these two servants were a couple. Bedivere wanted to slap them all for treating Arturia’s personal affairs like some common gossip. He wasn’t any better, though. Questions floated through his mind: Was this a casual affair? Was there something deeper between them? How had this begun? Did they give each other some measure of joy? The silver-armed knight mentally chastised himself for wanting to be so nosy. It wasn’t his place.

His fellows Knights of the Round proved not to have the same restraint.

As Diarmuid was chased off by Da Vinci – the actual gossip of Chaldea, summoned by the scent of illicit affairs – Lancelot hesitantly spoke up. “Your Majesty? Is this-”

“How dare you!” Gawain exclaimed, slamming his hands on the chessboard and scattering the pieces in every direction. Bedivere would’ve been worried about a fight breaking out were it not for the utterly baffled look written into each of the sun knight’s features. He was still reeling from the knowledge that his perfect king had chosen to lay with an Irishman. Out of wedlock, no less. “You have no right to question our King about this! Especially not with your history!”

Lancelot visibly flinched. His affair with Guinevere had happened so long ago, yet it haunted him every day. Not even Arturia could convince him that he was worthy of the honor of the Saber class, much less her forgiveness. Gawain knew this, yet chose to strike at that sore spot regardless. Bedivere readied himself to slap the sun knight for his callous words when the king of knights slammed her book shut, causing all three knights to snap to attention.

Calmly, Arturia laid the book on her lap. Her face was bright red, but everything else about her radiated authority. She would speak, and they would listen, and they would obey. Slowly, the king of knights said, “The answer to the question you’re all thinking is yes. I have been with Diarmuid and plan to continue doing so. That is all I will say on the subject, and you would do well to do the same.”

The three knights bowed their heads in agreement, as did Tristan, though that might’ve been coincidence. This wasn’t Camelot, Arturia was no longer the king of Britain, and so, this was none of their business. The king of knights stood up from her seat and began to walk back to her room, presumably to continue reading in peace. Lancelot and Gawain sheepishly returned to the chessboard, trying in vain to place the pieces back where they had been before all this started.

Bedivere still had one question nagging at the back of his mind. Before he could stop himself, he stepped up behind Arturia and ventured, “Your Majesty? If I may, I’ve one question for you.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder, eyes flashing with annoyance. “You may ask,” she said. Her tone conveyed the rest: _I do not owe you an answer._

The silver-armed knight nodded. Foolish though it was, he had his king’s attention, so he might as well ask. “Are you happy with him?”

Arturia’s brows rose quickly. “Yes,” she said. “Quite.”

“Then that is all we need to know,” Bedivere smiled. He was still undeniably shocked that she was with someone – anyone – but if she was happy, then that was what mattered. If she found that happiness with a chivalrous, Irish knight, then who was he to question it?

For the briefest of moments, the silver-armed knight saw Arturia smile, and that meant more to him than all the grand deeds she had ever performed.


	3. Heel Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hektor and Achilles never got along, and the rest of Chaldea is tired of their bickering.

“You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Wen Shi looked up from her cup at the aged man across from her. “You do realize they can make tea at the cafeteria any time you want. I’m sure the staff wouldn’t mind.” Her words held a note of admonishment, but, from the way her lips curled ever so slightly upwards, Hektor could tell that she knew exactly what he had meant.

“I was talking about the company,” the Trojan prince smiled. “Though the tea’s nice, too.”

“Thank you,” the Chinese woman smiled back. “If I’m being honest, though, I’ve always been a bit surprised that you’ve a taste for it. My ‘hot leaf juice’ couldn’t have been very common in Troy.”

Hektor groaned and leaned back in his chair. “How many times are you gonna bring that up? I’ve already apologized.”

Wen Shi chuckled, “As many times as it takes to stop being amusing, dear.”

The Trojan prince shook his head and took another sip of his tea, but he couldn’t keep the smile from creeping back onto his lips. They often made little jabs at each other like that, referencing something silly they’d done that they could both laugh at. It was all in good fun, so Hektor didn’t mind that he was, more often than not, the subject of such jabs.

He could hear voices coming from the hall outside, but he ignored them. Unless the voices’ owners came into Wen Shi’s room, they were of no concern to him.

“So,” Hektor began, “what have you been keeping occupied with?”

The Chinese woman sighed and shrugged. “Much of the same, really. Spending time with the newer servants, showing them the ropes, settling disputes… that sort of thing.”

“Sounds like you’ve been quite the busy bee, hm? Glad you could spare the time to hang out with an old man like me.”

“I’m no spring chicken, either,” Wen Shi said, motioning to herself. Hektor had to admit she was right. Like him, the Chinese woman had been summoned in a middle-aged body, one beginning to show the toll left by a lifetime of hard work in the fields. She carried it well, though; the only thing someone would notice at first glance were her prominent laugh lines and the streaks of gray in her long, black hair. At that moment, Wen Shi did look rather old as she sighed and continued. “I’ll be busy again quite soon from the sound of it, though.”

Hektor’s brow furrowed, and he was about to ask what she meant when he realized the voices from the hall had grown louder, to the point where he could tell who they belonged to. One was very distinctly Atalante, while the other was…

The Trojan prince was just deciding whether he had enough time to hide under the table when the door opened, and his worst enemy stepped in.

“Okay, I’m here,” Achilles announced in that gratingly bold voice of his. “Missy here said you wanted to see… me…”

Hektor was intently focusing on the cup in front of him, but he could feel the Achaean hero’s burning gaze on his back. It didn’t take him long to realize what was going on. Wen Shi was known for mediating disputes. She had tricked both Achilles and Hektor into her room at the same time. She was going to make them settle their differences, or, at the very least, try to do so. The Trojan prince would have admired her optimism were he not upset at having been tricked.

“What is _he_ doing here?” Achilles hissed.

It took all of Hektor’s willpower not to bolt out of the room from the sheer amount of venom in the Achaean hero’s voice. Instead, he quickly stood up, and, without even looking at their new guests, stiffly stated, “I was just leaving.”

“Sit down.” Wen Shi’s words were calm and devoid of anger. The command itself was so simple and gentle that Hektor obeyed automatically. When she was confident that the Trojan prince wouldn’t immediately make a run for it, she turned her attention to Achilles. “You as well.”

The Achaean hero’s eyes snapped to Wen Shi, but unlike Hektor, she held his gaze without flinching. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he growled, gnashing his teeth together in a mixture of annoyance and pure rage. “What is _he_ doing _here_?”

“By the divines, you are an idiot!” Atalante groaned. The cat-eared archer grabbed a handful of Achilles’s scarf and physically dragged him into a chair. Hektor chanced a glance back at her to see that she had sat herself between the men, her tail quickly twitching back and forth.

_They’ve been planning this,_ the Trojan prince thought as Wen Shi poured two more cups of tea. _And Wen Shi expects this to go on for a bit. Shit. It’s been a while since I’ve been trapped, but I’ve gotten out of worse situations. Still, well played, my friend._

As was his nature, Hektor’s eyes darted about the room, taking stock of the entire situation. Wen Shi’s room was simple, just like all of their rooms were. The only major difference was that the Chinese woman had brought in a round, wooden table and enough chairs for a small group to sit comfortably around it. Hektor and Achilles weren’t sitting directly across from each other, and for that, the Trojan prince was grateful. Despite the Achaean’s focused rage practically boring a hole in Hektor’s head, the Trojan prince could just as easily look to see Wen Shi sitting calmly pouring tea. Atalante sat between the two men, acting as a barrier so they didn’t try to strangle one another.

And on the bed, one of Wen Shi’s “sons” was sleeping soundly. Hektor hadn’t thought anything of it when he first came in, but now he was hyper aware of the dragon coiled atop the covers, his scales glittering like the tail feathers of a peacock. It was from him and his brothers that the Chinese woman received her other name: Long Mu, the Mother of Dragons. It was a title she truly earned from the way she cared for and commanded her five sons. Up until that point, Hektor held a slim hope that he could get out of having to talk with Achilles, but upon the realization that it was Wen Shi who forced this meeting, he knew he would have to face his worst enemy whether he liked it or not. Neither he nor the Achaean hero would be able to leave if the Dragon Mother’s sons decided that the men should stay. They simply weren’t strong enough to take on a dragon.

A few tense moments passed as Wen Shi handed the cups to Atalante and Achilles. The Achaean hero barely reacted to the offered tea. He was sitting at attention, his back straight as a rod, which made him look as uncomfortable as he no doubt felt.

Achilles was the one to break the silence. “So?”

The Chinese woman sighed and folded her hands. Her entire demeanor gave off an aura of disappointment, and Hektor fought the urge to apologize for, well, everything. “You must already know why I gathered the two of you here,” she said. “But, for the sake of getting things started, I’ll explain. Achilles, you and Hektor have been working with Chaldea for months, yet you can barely stand to be in the same room. That’s been fine up until now, but Ritsuka recently expressed a concern that you two won’t be able to work together on upcoming missions. So, she tasked me with helping you work through your grievances and come to some kind of accord. Is that a sufficient answer to your query?”

“No!” Achilles slammed his fist down on the table. His teacup wobbled precariously but failed to fall over, not that he seemed to notice. “I’d rather die than be on the same team as that murderer! Master shouldn’t have any problem with our teamwork if we’re not working on the same team.”

“That must be the only thing we agree on,” Hektor grumbled. He wasn’t actually sure if they would be of the same mind on other topics; he’d never talked with the Achaean hero long enough to find out. The Trojan prince didn’t quite feel like talking with what Achilles said. “And I’ve never murdered anyone, so your moniker is a bit false.”

“Never _what_?” Achilles yelled. Atalante’s ears flattened against her head as she tried to drink her tea, definitely regretting her decision to place herself between the antagonistic men. The Achaean hero seemed oblivious to her discomfort, though, as he glared at Hektor. “You killed dozens of my friends! How can you sit there and say you’re not a murderer?”

Hektor didn’t really want to pursue this line of discussion. He was fine with Achilles thinking of him as a murderer. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought the same of the Achaeans several times during the siege. However, Wen Shi was looking between them so expectantly, waiting for the Trojan prince to either refute or agree with Achilles’s accusation. “It was war,” he said sharply. Hektor could feel himself losing his composure as the Achaean hero narrowed his eyes, so he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I did what I needed to do to keep my city safe. If what I did qualifies as murder, then you’re just as guilty of it as I am.”

“There didn’t even need to _be_ a war!” Achilles was nearly standing up in his attempt to lean across the table. It wasn’t necessary; Hektor could see how angry the Achaean was just fine. “If your whore of a brother hadn’t—”

Achilles didn’t get to finish as Hektor landed his fist squarely in the Achaean’s face, sending him flying back into his seat. Everyone stared in disbelief at the Trojan prince. Even Hektor was surprised by his own reaction. He so rarely let his emotions get the better of him, but Achilles’s words stoked an ember of rage he hadn’t realized was burning.

“Say that again…” Hektor left the threat hanging, the implications all the more terrifying for how calmly he said it. He knew that Wen Shi wouldn’t allow any bloodshed in her presence, but that thought was so far from his mind he would’ve needed a spyglass to find it. Achilles’s eyes widened in shock as he clutched his certainly broken nose. Even during their duel, he hadn’t seen the Trojan prince so furious. _Good,_ Hektor thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. _He’s knows I’m serious._

His sickening joy was short-lived, though, as he glanced at the Dragon Mother. Wen Shi was as calm as ever, but her look of disappointment cut right through him. “So,” she began slowly, “Achilles has made his grievances very clear. Now, Hektor, how about you share yours? Preferably without your fists.”

“Yeah, Hektor,” Achilles said, mocking Wen Shi’s gentle tone. “Why don’t you use your words like a civilized person?”

The Dragon Mother snapped her head to the Achaean hero as fast as a viper’s strike. Achilles actually flinched when her narrowed gaze settled on him. “There will be no more insults, either.” Her commanding voice made it clear that this was not up for discussion.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Achilles mumbled, wiping some of the blood from his face. He would definitely need to see Dr. Roman afterwards for some healing, but it wasn’t bad enough to stop.

“Now then… Hektor?” Wen Shi looked at the Trojan prince expectantly.

Hektor felt like he’d been dunked in a river during the dead of winter. His rage still burned strong in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t muster the desire to express it. Now that his passion had been ignited, the Trojan prince wanted to yell at Achilles until he was hoarse, yet he couldn’t bear disappointing Wen Shi any further. He respected and cared for her as much as he did the Trojan citizens. So, all his shouts died halfway up his throat. “Paris was an idiot and a fool,” he managed to say. “But he was my brother. I couldn’t turn him and Helen away when they asked for asylum. I just… couldn’t…” Logically, Hektor knew he should’ve sued for peace when the Achaeans approached his city. That would’ve ended the war before it began. But the image of his baby brother, in tears from the panic of being chased, flashed through his mind. How could he have stood before the Trojan citizens as their king if he’d abandoned the one person who needed him most in his hour of need?

Achilles folded his arms and huffed. “You think we didn’t have people we cared for?” the Achaean hero growled. “I lost the love of my life to your spear! All because Paris couldn’t keep it—” He stopped midsentence at Wen Shi’s knife-edged glare. Achilles swallowed whatever insult he’d prepared, instead saying, “Because he chose to elope with a married woman.”

“I made my decision,” Hektor said, idly rolling his tea. It had lost most of its heat, much like his temper. “The only thing I regret is accepting your duel. Had I not died there, I might’ve been able to stop you from slaughtering my people.” He kept his eyes on the table, sure that he would begin yelling if he so much as looked at the Achaean across from him.

“Hey! I was long dead by the time that happened,” Achilles protested. “The only ones I ever killed were soldiers.”

The Trojan prince hazarded a glance up at the Achaean hero, eyebrow raised in slight curiosity and disbelief. “You wouldn’t have participated? Pardon me for being skeptical, especially after what you did with my body.”

Achilles looked off to the side defensively. Hektor had definitely struck a nerve. “I was upset and in mourning,” he muttered. “And we gave your corpse to Paris for a proper burial… Eventually. It’s not like we fed your bones to the dogs.”

“You may as well have,” Hektor retorted coldly. He could no longer feel the rage rising within him. Sorrow and hurt had a much firmer grip on his heart as he began to realize the situation. They’d been all but fated to fight. He didn’t know what else to say.

Wen Shi must’ve sensed the shift in their demeanors, as she chose that moment to speak up. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like neither of you is without fault. Now that your grievances are aired and reasons have been given, will you be able to leave the past where it belongs?”

Hektor looked Achilles in the eye. He doubted he could ever truly forgive the Achaean hero – or any Achaean – for the events of the Trojan War, but he felt too tired to continue the blind hatred. Perhaps leaving the past in the past would be for the best. “Yeah,” the Trojan prince sighed. “I won’t forgive you, but I’m tired of hating you.”

Achilles grumbled something under his breath before nodding. “If that’s what our master wants, then I’ll put my grudge aside.” The Achaean hero clenched his fist in front of him, and Hektor had a good idea what he would say next. “I just want one good swing at you… for Patroclus and for my nose.”

The Dragon Mother opened her mouth to admonish him for wanting more violence, but Hektor answered first. “That seems fair. But only one.”

Setting down her now empty teacup, Atalante rolled her eyes. “Men… Typical.”

To which Wen Shi simply nodded.

* * * * * * * * * *

Doctor Roman was used to servants wandering into his office needing some injury tended to. Half the time, said servants were dragged in by their fellows after a particularly unfortunate sparring accident. Very rarely were two quite conscious servants pulled into the office by their ears, but that was just what happened. Wen Shi almost stomped in, holding Achilles’s ear in one hand and Hektor’s in the other. Both men looked like they’d been in a bar brawl, so there was definitely a story behind their sudden arrival.

But Roman had long since learned not to ask. The Dragon Mother looked one hundred percent done with any and all bullshit, and so the mage doctor simply sighed and gestured to the examination room. He’d probably hear about the sworn enemies’ fight at dinner, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wen Shi is one of my favorite Chinese legends, so I do hope I did her justice in adding her as a Servant.
> 
> Side note: I do know that the more appropriate term for this fic would be "face turn", but I couldn't resist the pun.


	4. Kindness in Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hyde is surprisingly popular... and he doesn't like it one bit.
> 
> Well, maybe one bit.

“Hy… de?”

Hyde glanced up at the halting syllables of another berserker’s voice. Frankenstein’s monster – more commonly known as Fran – stood beside the couch, gently rocking back and forth on her heels. It was she to whom the voice belonged. It certainly didn’t belong to the giant, bull-horned man behind her.

The blonde berserker sighed and went back to lounging on the couch. “What do you two want?” he groaned. “I’ve got a lot of nothing to get to today, so make it quick.”

Fran made a short sound of acknowledgement. “Berserker… picnic.” She paused between every syllable, as if speech itself were a challenging task. It annoyed Hyde to no end. If the other servants wanted to invite him to their silly little party, they should’ve sent someone a bit better at asking. Asterios wasn’t any better, but at least he could get entire words out before thinking of what came next. And he was just standing there, idly rubbing his hands.

“No thanks,” the blonde berserker said, waving the two vocally-challenged servants away. “Like I said, lots of nothing to get to. If I wanna finish it all, then I should start now, don’t you think?”

Almost immediately, Hyde felt a sigh against the back of his mind. Jekyll’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once, though only the blonde berserker could hear it. _“An entire day for yourself, and this is how you use it? This picnic couldn’t possibly be less boring than lying in the common room.”_

The good doctor almost sounded put out. After all, Jekyll had promised one whole day of uninterrupted control to Hyde. A thank you, of sorts, for going out of his way to protect their master. It was hardly something Hyde thought merited any sort of “gift.” He cared for Ritsuka just as much as Jekyll did. But the blonde berserker would never turn down the opportunity to be in charge, so he’d greedily accepted the good doctor’s offer.

However, it wasn’t exactly Hyde’s fault that most of his usual activities were unavailable at Chaldea. There were no bars, no whorehouses, no random tough guys to lay the smack down on. He could barely get drunk on the swill the Chaldea staff called alcohol, and the less said about his Parisian escapades with Andersen and Shakespeare, the better. Hyde shuddered just thinking about the hangover he’d saddled poor Jekyll with in his attempt to find out how much booze was necessary to make the authors’ discussions seem rational.

Ritsuka wasn’t an option at the moment, either. Sure, they had some fun shagging that morning, but she was a busy woman. There were singularities to study, strategies to devise, servants to check in on, and a whole host of other things the young master had to attend to before she could spend more time with Hyde.

Fran let out a sigh that sounded closer to a groan. The blonde berserker had no idea why she would be disappointed. It wasn’t like they were friends. He wasn’t going back on any kind of agreement or unspoken bond. Hyde was considering telling her off again when his attention was drawn to the lounge entrance by frantic footsteps.

Whoever it was must’ve been in quite the hurry, as their steps grew in volume far faster than usual, even for the continually overworked Doctor Roman. Hyde barely had a moment to wonder where the fire was before a flash of crimson darted through the door and weaved between the chairs and tables.

It wasn’t a fire. It was much worse. And it was headed right for Hyde.

“I found you!” Nightingale declared, her voice echoing in the room from the passion she poured into every word.

The nurse skidded to a halt in front of Hyde’s couch even as the blonde berserker vaulted over the back, just barely jumping out of her reach. “What in the goddamn Hell are you on about?” he shouted in retaliation. “You also here to get me to yer stupid party?”

Nightingale’s eyes narrowed, her gaze chilling in its intensity. Hyde took a step back, suddenly wary of what the Crimean nurse could possibly want from him. Especially since her body was tensed like a cat about to pounce.

“It is my duty to heal the sick, and you are a toxin that must be purged in order for Jekyll to heal!”

_“Lovely,”_ Jekyll deadpanned, mirroring Hyde’s own thoughts, albeit with a few less swears. _“I believe running is in order.”_

_For once, we agree,_ the blonde berserker thought even as he turned to flee. He couldn’t outrun her – he was built more for strength than speed – but all he had to do was make it to Ritsuka. Nightingale would listen to their master, who would clear up whatever misunderstanding had gripped the Crimean nurse’s mind.

It was a good plan. It would’ve been even better if he had a chance to use it.

Before Hyde could take two steps, Nightingale launched herself over the couch, tackling the blonde berserker and pinning him to the ground. All the air left his lungs in a half-said curse. He just managed to throw his arms out to keep from smashing face first into the vinyl floor. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go at all.

Hyde struggled to worm his way out from under the nurse, but he only managed to shift just enough for her fist to connect with his cheek, rather than the back of his head. Pain blossomed across his jaw, the room spinning wildly around him. Hyde was used to pain; it was the disorientation he didn’t care for. It messed up how he could fight back, something he knew he needed to do if he wanted to keep both himself and the good doctor alive.

Before the second punch could come, the blonde berserker rammed his elbow back with as much force as he could muster. He felt the blow connect, and then the weight was gone from his back. Even with his awareness scattered in five different directions at that point, Hyde knew that was far too easy. Scrambling unsteadily back to his feet, the blonde berserker whirled around to see what had caused Nightingale to cease her assault.

Many people referred to the Crimean nurse as an angel. Given her profession, that wasn’t surprising. She saved so many people that to call her any less would be an insult to her memory, even if she never thought so. But at that moment, there was only one angel in Hyde’s mind.

Fran had her arms hooked under Nightingale’s, pulling her up and away from the blonde berserker. The Crimean nurse flailed ineffectually, trying desperately to shake Fran’s hold on her. Neither would be able to keep it up forever, though, and Fran was already showing signs of strain. It didn’t take a genius to tell who would lose their grip first.

“Go!” the monster shouted, the heat of battle making the single word clear and precise.

Hyde regained the last bit of orientation Nightingale had punched out of him and shook his head clear. “Yeah! Yeah, I got it! Going to find… Ritsuka… Oh shit…”

A heavy mental groan echoed in his mind. _“You forgot where she was, didn’t you?”_ the good doctor asked, knowing full well the answer. _“There’s nothing for it, then. Just get to safety. I’m fairly certain I saw Alexander running to get help.”_

“That would be so much more helpful if I knew where ‘safety’ was located,” Hyde hissed, unconcerned that he’d just spoken aloud. It wasn’t like they were trying to keep their dual nature a secret here.

“Go!” Fran screeched again as Nightingale got a good, backhanded smack across the monster’s side.

The blonde berserker felt something twist in his stomach. There was no reason for Fran to put herself at risk for him. She had nothing to gain by protecting him. The only people he’d personally known who would do something so self-sacrificial for no clear gain were Jekyll and Ritsuka. And Hyde was convinced those two were certified saints on the same level as Georgios or Martha. Regardless, that twisting in his stomach was making him feel bad at how he’d treated her not five minutes ago.

Hyde opened his mouth to make a snarky comment – a poor shield against this new feeling that he didn’t yet want to deal with – but closed it almost immediately as Asterios padded around to his side. The minotaur wrapped his huge hands around the blonde berserker, lifting him up like he would a small, baby bird.

“Up,” Asterios smiled helpfully… right before throwing Hyde into the air.

The lounge was simply constructed, but the designers had thought it prudent to add a series of rafters as both decoration and an easy way to access the lights. Normal humans needed a ladder to reach even the lowest of the beams, but Asterios was about as far from a normal human as possible. He easily threw Hyde within reach of the rafters.

Of course, it was then blonde berserker’s job to grab said rafter. As he reached the top of the arc, Hyde flung his arms out, catching the solid metal beam and clinging to it for dear life. He could feel a scream welling up in his chest, and it took all of his stubborn pride to keep it down.

“Okay, I’m up!” Hyde managed as he shimmied into a more stable position. “Now what?”

Down below, Nightingale ripped out of Fran’s grip, knocking the monster down in the process. Her eyes, wide and wild with the telltale signs of her madness enhancement, flicked between the minotaur and her target before settling on Hyde. “You cannot run forever,” the Crimean nurse stated.

The words sent a chill up Hyde’s spine. Not because of what she said, no… it was how she said it. Nightingale sounded so calm and clinical, like she was treating any of her other patients. And she would do anything – literally anything – to make sure those in her care survived. It was a great thing if one was her patient. Less so if one was the disease.

“No!” Asterios roared. With speed one wouldn’t expect from someone the size of a growing redwood, the minotaur lunged for the Crimean nurse. “You… stop… chasing! Hyde… not… bad!”

The twist in Hyde’s stomach came back. _Okay,_ he thought, _maybe I am sick. But not in the way she thinks I am!_

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jekyll rolled his eyes. The doctor knew something, and Hyde knew that he knew. They would be having a discussion later. If Nightingale didn’t wind up killing them both. At that point, any outcome seemed plausible.

Down below, the Crimean nurse ducked out of the way of Asterios’s clumsy grab. She dashed forward, past the minotaur and a recently recovered Fran, and leapt onto a support beam.

Hyde’s only options were, once again, to run or accept Nightingale’s “treatment.” The blonde berserker let out a distressed whine and got to his feet, balancing on the rafter a bit more precariously than he would’ve liked. He honestly had no idea how Robin, or Hassan, or that black-cloaked avenger regularly hung around on the narrow beams.

Not that it seemed to be giving Nightingale any difficulty. She hopped between the rafters with ease, uncaring that a single misstep would send her falling a fair distance to the ground.

“Shit,” Hyde gasped, preparing to jump to a different rafter but well aware that he’d never outrun her now. He readied his knife. If he went down, he’d go down fighting.

“Nightingale! What the ever-flying fuck are you doing?!”

The Crimean nurse halted immediately, balancing precariously as she looked to the source of the voice. Hyde did the same, but he already knew who it was.

Down below, Ritsuka stood with Alexander by her side. She had her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. “Get down here, Nightingale. We’ve been over this. No ‘curing’ the other servants.”

“Hyde is a toxic presence, and it is my duty to—”

Ritsuka flung her arms out wide. “Do I look like I care? Just stop harassing the other servants.”

Nightingale blinked a few times, then looked back at the blonde berserker. Without another word, she hopped down from the rafters, landing heavily on the vinyl floor.

The young master beckoned the Crimean nurse to leave with her, but she met Hyde’s eyes before leaving the room entirely. “Do you need help getting down, Edward? I think Dantes wants his spot back.”

Before Hyde could respond with some witty comeback about how nice it was up there, Asterios padded over to a spot not quite directly beneath the blonde berserker. The minotaur spread his arms out and simply stated, “I catch.”

Ritsuka’s soft laughter as she left with Nightingale did nothing to help Hyde’s annoyance. He didn’t need help; other people needed help from him. But somewhere in the back of his mind – in a spot that wasn’t quite Jekyll – he knew that it would be rude to ignore Asterios’s offer, and he found he didn’t actually want to ignore it. “Oh, fine,” Hyde groaned before jumping down. _Like some kind of fucking damsel in fucking distress. You better not say anything, Jekyll, or I’ll bite our nose off to spite you._

Asterios was good to his word and caught the blonde berserker with ease. Thankfully, he set Hyde down as soon as possible, sparing him any further embarrassment. Fran quickly joined them, possibly worried for the blonde berserker’s safety.

Hyde’s stomach gave one last twist. Neither of the other berserkers had to step up for him, but they had. He wasn’t sure how to react to that sort of kindness; it certainly hadn’t been shown to him in life. Awkwardly crossing his arms in front of his chest, Hyde cleared his throat. “So… uh… berserker picnic, you said?”

The way Fran’s face lit up at those words would’ve overshadowed even Astolfo’s brightest grin.

* * * * * * * * * *

“No, I am not wearing that dumb thing. Give it to Lancelot.”

Fran shook her head and thrust the flower crown towards Hyde again. Clearly, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The blonde berserker groaned. He wasn’t entirely sure how she and the minotaur had convinced him to make those silly flower things with them. It wasn’t something he normally would’ve put up with or even entertained the idea of doing. Somehow, Asterios’s expectant gaze and Fran’s eager joy convinced him to shove his pride to the side. At least for the moment.

“If you tell anyone about this,” Hyde said, dropping his voice, “then I’ll kill you and everyone else here. Got it?”

Fran nodded emphatically. Only then did the blonde berserker incline his head so the monster could lay the flower crown on his head. Hyde felt silly, but the smile on Fran’s face almost made up for it.

“Here,” Asterios said softly as he lay an oversized garland around the monster’s neck. Only in a world of giants would that flower creation pass for a crown, but he’d certainly tried. “Pretty. Is… good.”

“Unh,” Fran grunted. She picked some more flowers within arm’s reach, putting half in Hyde’s hands.

“And what do you want me to do with this?” the blonde berserker asked.

Fran simply shuffled around the minotaur and began weaving the stems into his ample mane.

Hyde sighed and joined her. He had the crown on already. Might as well go all in. Also, he didn’t know why, but he actually felt happy. Just a bit.

In the back of their shared mind, Jekyll chuckled knowingly.


	5. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noble Phantasms interact in some interesting ways, as Arash unfortunately learns.

Ibaraki tore through Nero’s defenses, tossing her aside like so much rotten wheat. She landed heavily on the hard-packed earth, struggling to stand despite their master’s attempts at healing. To Ritsuka’s side, Irisviel had her hands full defending herself as she gathered magical energy.

None of which surprised Arash. Even he just barely remained standing after the initial assault. Oni were difficult to deal with at the best of times; a Grail-powered Ibaraki was a challenge none of them were prepared for.

“Damn it,” the archer swore under his breath. He continued firing arrow after arrow into the oni’s skin, but that did little to dissuade her. After all, she had no fear of death or pain. Both of which Arash wanted to avoid.

Together with Kintoki, their small group had managed to drive Ibaraki back to the gates of Rashomon twice. Yet with each victory, the oni came back stronger. The struggle was wearing down on them all, and Arash cursed his inability to help more. Every other Servant unleashed their noble phantasms left and right, dealing great blows to the oni and her minions. The archer, however, hadn’t used his once, and not without reason.

Stella. The Lone Meteor. Compared to his overall strength, Arash’s noble phantasm was insanely powerful. It could deal a heavy blow to any enemy he fired it at. But it came with a cost. Upon releasing that arrow from his bow, Arash would die. His spirit core would shatter, and he would float through the ether until Ritsuka could once again summon him at Chaldea.

The archer wasn’t afraid of death. He’d experienced it countless times before. But he didn’t want to abandon his friends when they still had so many bouts yet to go.

_Think, Arash, think,_ he thought as he took a moment to survey the battlefield. Everyone was on the defensive, and Ibaraki showed no sign of slowing down. _Okay, not much I can do… Great._

But not much still meant he could do something. Arash sighed, silently apologizing to Ritsuka and the other Servants. The archer could make the oni pause, at the very least, giving everyone else a chance to regroup and heal. After all, losing one ally was a small price to pay for the chance to continue the fight.

Setting an arrow against the bowstring, Arash took a deep breath and gathered his strength. The prayer which heralded his noble phantasm rolled off his tongue unbidden. Energy swirled around his bow, and the archer could feel his body strain under the pressure. He was well familiar with the feeling, but it would cease the moment he released the bowstring.

Over the din of battle, Arash heard Irisviel call upon her own noble phantasm, its healing aura washing over all her allies. It eased the ache for a moment, but it would ultimately be pointless. No amount of healing could prevent his core from shattering.

_I’m so sorry, everyone,_ the archer thought, giving a quick glance to his fearless master. _You’ll do fine without me. I trust you to win this fight._

“Stella!”

With that, he let go the bowstring. A giant meteor crashed down upon Ibaraki and her enormous hands, throwing dust and dirt in every direction. It was a scene Arash had seen many times, though his vision always fractured in those final moments.

But something was wrong. He knew it the moment he released his noble phantasm’s name. Strong magic tied his being together, a contingency spell triggered upon death. As his body fractured from the power of that shot, the magic awoke, tethering each piece together.

He wasn’t dying, but he felt like he was.

Arash dropped his bow, the world clouding in a red haze as a cry ripped from his lips. While Stella destroyed his body, at least it rendered his nerves useless, making its aftereffects akin to falling asleep. This time, he could feel the splintering in his soul, feel his body being torn to shreds. Every crack in his being sliced through Arash’s senses, burning like all the fires of a forge before the magic stitched him back together.

He wasn’t sure when he collapsed to the ground. All he knew was that he curled in on himself, as if it would grant him some comfort. But all that accomplished was making it feel as if he’d wrapped a blanket around himself. A blanket of needles, which dug into his flesh.

A ragged cry tore from Arash’s lips before unconsciousness mercifully claimed him.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Arash?”

The archer’s eyes fluttered at the gentle voice. He didn’t want to wake up; some part of him still feared that overwhelming pain. But as the disorientation of sleep faded, Arash felt warmth all around. The intoxicating scent of alcohol had faded, meaning the heat could only be coming from the arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Arash? You awake?”

It was Ritsuka’s voice. The archer smiled at the familiar, comforting sound and let his eyes open. He was rewarded with the sight of his master’s bright eyes and wide grin.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. “After that scream, I… I was worried you would never wake.”

Arash let out a small chuckle and laid a hand on her shoulder. His arm protested the action, the once all-encompassing pain reasserting itself as a dull ache. The archer didn’t care. Ritsuka’s mana flowed freely through his body, facilitated by their proximity. The magical energy worked to heal the damage he sustained, soothing the ache and warming his soul.

“Sorry I made you worry,” Arash said. He was suddenly aware how dry his throat was, but he continued regardless. “I’m not used to that much pain.”

At his words, Ritsuka held him tighter. It briefly occurred to the archer that what he said was hardly reassuring.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she mumbled. “I told Iri to use her phantasm. I didn’t know it would do… _that_ , though.”

Arash simply nodded. Irisviel’s powers of healing were extraordinary, but even their best healers could rarely influence an ally’s noble phantasm. It was certainly something to think about.

“How long have I been out?” he inquired. From the pieces of sky Arash could see through the tree branches overhead, evening was in the process of settling. But all that meant was he’d been unconscious at least half a day.

“Not long,” Ritsuka said, disentangling herself so she could sit comfortably. Arash lamented the loss of that little intimacy, but she laid his head on her lap the instant she got settled. “Just a few hours.”

“That’s good,” the archer sighed. _So, Irisviel’s power allowed me to return to the fight far quicker than usual? Were it not for the pain, I’d think it a grand strategy._

A few more minutes passed, wherein Ritsuka ran her fingers through Arash’s dark hair. It nearly lulled the archer back to sleep, but he enjoyed those small affections too much to miss it. He wasn’t jealous of his master’s “regulars” by any means, but Nero and Jekyll did tend to hog Ritsuka’s attention. Now, though, she quietly focused on Arash.

The silence allowed him a chance for softer sounds to reach his ears. The rest of their allies chatted close by – though far enough to muffle their words. The archer was grateful they decided against hovering over him; what little pride he had couldn’t handle that much attention while he was in such a state. All around, bugs sang in response to the rising moon, and, in the distance, the cheers and shouts of revelry drifted from the demonic capital city.

“Think you’ll be fighting fit by tomorrow?” the young master asked, cutting through the ambient noise. “I doubt we saw the last of Ibaraki.”

Arash nodded. “I’d be surprised if I wasn’t.”

Ritsuka grinned and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good to hear. By the way—” She motioned to the rest of the group. “—do you want to join the others, or do you think some more rest is in order?”

“Rest,” the archer answered. “Definitely.”

He missed what the young master said after that, lulled back into pleasant sleep by her gentle caress.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and critiques are greatly appreciated!


End file.
